


An accidental incident

by tlakht



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Castiel in the Bunker, Coming Out, Exhibitionism, First Kiss, Kinda, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism, well not quite but that was the closest tag I could find
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlakht/pseuds/tlakht
Summary: Bad timing and an unlocked door lead to an incident that teaches both Dean and Cas something about themselves: Cas learns that he may have a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and Dean learns that he finds the sight of Cas coming all over himself quite distracting.





	An accidental incident

The first time it happens, it's purely an accident, on both parts. Dean knocks on Cas's bedroom door, and there's no reply. He knocks again. Dinner's gonna get cold if Cas doesn't get his ass downstairs soon. After a third try with no reply, Dean opens the door – Cas has never really understood the concept of privacy, so what's the chance he ever really needs some himself?

But _oh_ , apparently he does, because Dean is met with the sight of Cas in his bed, T-shirt rucked up to reveal his chest, pants entirely gone, and boxers pushed down to his thighs. His hand is gripping a part of him that Dean has only ever seen once before, mostly obscured by bees at the time. Now, however, Cas's dick is in clear sight, flushed and standing to attention. He must be right on the edge, too far gone to stop, because his hips lift off the bed the moment his eyes lock with Dean's, pumping into his hand a few more times before he tenses, all his muscles clenching as the first spurt hits his hair. The next hits him on the jaw, and Dean finds himself transfixed, unable to move even as his mind is trying to process what he's seeing.

And then Dean's name is tumbling from Cas's lips, a drawn-out, rich sound that does nothing to break the spell they seem to have fallen under, neither one able to look away from the other. Dean is still watching as Cas paints his chest in white stripes, and even still when he lets go of his dick and pants raggedly as the last of his cum pools near his hip bone, his dick twitching a couple times in the pearly liquid before it finally goes still.

Dean gulps, and only then does he realise he's been standing there with his mouth open. "Um." He clears his throat, because his voice sounds wrecked. "Dinner's ready." He shuts the door before anything else can be said between them, and stands there for a moment looking at it. Then he resolutely walks back downstairs. He's going to forget it ever happened. For his own sake and for Cas's.

"Cas coming?" Sam asks when Dean comes downstairs, and Dean almost chokes on his own tongue. For a moment, he wonders if Sam heard Cas moan his name, but there's no smug grin to go with the words, so he just swallows and mumbles, "Yeah."

It still takes Cas five minutes to come downstairs, and when he does, his hair is wet and he smells of bergamot and verbena – not that Dean knows what the hell those are, but that's what the shampoo bottle says, anyway.

"Dude, you had to take a shower before coming down to eat?" Sam asks, and the image of a debauched, filthy Cas is replayed in Dean's mind. Yeah, Cas made a good call with the shower. Dean can only imagine the horror on Sam's face if Cas had shown up looking like he did ten minutes ago.

Cas shoots Dean a quick look before simply answering "Yes", without any further explanation.

Dean keeps his mouth shut, even as Sam looks at him to see if he's going to comment. In fact, when they eat, Dean's probably quieter than he's ever been during one of their dinners together. It's hard to hold a conversation when your mind is occupied with the image of your best friend moaning your name as he comes. He knows Cas only said it out of surprise, but still – it's something that Dean's mind has stubbornly decided to hang on to.

After dinner, Cas offers to help Sam with the dishes since Dean did the cooking, and Dean heads out to the garage to tinker on Baby. He's long since discovered that it's one of the best ways to clear his mind of things he doesn't want to think about. Of course, he usually takes the alternative route of drowning his thoughts in a bottle of booze, but this doesn't quite seem to warrant getting shit-faced. Sure, walking in on your best friend polishing his angel blade, so to speak, is awkward, but it's really nothing compared to all the reasons Dean has had to get drunk in his life. Hell, it's not really a big deal; Dean has even walked in on Sammy, and vice versa. These things happen when living in close quarters.

The only difference is that he and Sam have always just shut the door again the moment they've noticed what the other is up to, whereas he and Cas… they just fucking _stared_ at each other. Which, yeah, the staring isn't exactly a new thing, but this is the first time they've done it while Cas has been coming all over himself. In his damn _hair_ , even, which was a pretty fucking spectacular display of ejaculatory fortitude.

Dean groans at the realisation that Baby isn't managing to distract him from his thoughts, and what's more, he isn't getting anything done. He almost hits his head on her underbody when he hears "Dean?" in a gravelly voice from above. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. They're gonna talk about this, apparently, and Dean has no idea what can even be said about what happened. He reluctantly slides out from under the car and gets up.

Cas is standing too close as usual, almost crowding Dean up against the car, his face mere inches away from Dean's. In his mind's eye, Dean can still see that face slack with pleasure and stained with cum. "Yeah?" His voice is gruff.

"Perhaps you could take a look at the washing machine instead? It's leaking." Oh. Not what Dean expected to hear. So Cas isn't planning on talking about it. Well, good.

"Yeah, sure thing."

The rest of the day goes by a little easier, now that he knows Cas is in on the whole pretending-it-never-happened thing. Cas is actually pretty good at it, not looking particularly flustered by having been caught shaking hands with Cas junior. Maybe he just hasn't grasped the concept of embarrassment yet. In any case, it helps Dean with acting like nothing is out of the ordinary.

The next few days go by in much the same fashion, apart from a couple of dreams that are better left unspoken of, and some morning wood that refuses to go away until it's taken care of. Whatever. No one's the wiser.

It's been four days when Dean's doing some research on something that may or not be a case, and he's trying to google selkies when his computer goes on the fritz. He tries turning it off and on again, but the damn thing won't even turn back on. He slams the lid closed with a sigh and goes in search of Cas; Sam won't let Dean near his computer anymore after he got it infected with a virus from a porn site that took Sam days to get rid of.

Cas is in his room – thankfully not doing anything filthy, although Dean wouldn't have opened the door this time if he hadn't answered – and agrees easily when Dean wants to borrow his computer.

It's only after Dean has begun typing into the search bar that he realises this might have been a mistake. After typing the first two letters, the suggested search "sexually aroused by being watched masturbating" appears, and yeah, that's phrased a little bit too weirdly to have shown up due to being a common search phrase. With some trepidation, Dean pulls up the browsing history, scrolls back a couple of days, and… yeah, Cas has definitely been researching. "More intense orgasm when being watched masturbating" is the first search that shows up, clearly aimed at finding out what the deal is, whereas the more recent searches include more specific terms like "exhibitionism" or "voyeurism", and are followed by porn video URLs. Some of the searches include "gay" as well, and Dean has no fucking clue how to feel about that – not that he feels equipped to handle any of this information in the first place.

Dean lets the cursor hover over one of the porn links – to a video with the title "Gay Watches Friend Jerk Off" – for a moment, before he quickly closes the internet history entirely, certain that watching the video would be a Very Bad Idea.

Being around Cas is a bit awkward after that. Whenever Cas stares at him or stands too close like he always does, Dean can't help but wonder if he's thinking about the incident. If he thinks about it when he's alone in his room; if he _likes_ thinking about it. It should probably bother Dean more than it does to think about Cas enjoying the memory.

It's been maybe a couple of weeks when Sam leaves to go on a hunt with Eileen. And get laid, Dean's pretty sure; Sam hasn't said anything yet, but Dean has a hunch that hunting isn't the only thing that's going on whenever they meet up. Good for them.

Dean heads for the bathroom; one less person in the house and Cas having had a shower earlier in the day means Dean will be able to grab one without worrying about leaving enough hot water for the other two. He's come to enjoy longer and hotter showers since they moved in here, where the water pressure is amazing and he has all the time in the world.

He hears something just as he passes by Cas's bedroom – a soft sound from within the room that he wouldn't have heard if it wasn't for the fact that the door is ajar. Dean freezes, listening for the sound in case it's repeated, and sure enough, there it is: a low, quiet moan. His eyes automatically flit to the doorway; the door is only cracked open by a few inches, so he can only see a sliver of the room from where he's standing.

The next moan is louder. Does Cas know he's there? He must know. It can't all be a coincidence – the stuff Cas has been googling, the fact that his door is ajar and the fact that this is happening now that Sam's gone. Right? Cas wants him to hear. Maybe to watch.

Dean doesn't know what to do. He's had… dreams, yes. But he hasn't considered whether he might want to do something like this. Walking over to the door means crossing a boundary between him and Cas that they've never crossed before. Not intentionally, at least.

He shifts slightly to accommodate a growing erection, and the floor creaks underneath him. Immediately, a moan seems to be punched out of Cas's throat inside the room, and before Dean knows it, his feet are leading him to the door, slowly, quietly.

Dean can see Cas's arm, his hip, his leg. He's nude and sitting on the edge of the bed, facing toward the wall with the door but not the door itself. Dean leans his head to the side until he can see Cas in his entirety, one hand wrapped around his cock, which is hard and flushed a dusky pink and glistening with what must be lube. Cas's eyes are closed, but maybe he heard Dean walk over to the door, because his mouth falls open and he keens as he speeds up.

Dean can't get the zipper on his pants open fast enough. When he's finally freed his dick, however, he has a brief moment of panic – what if Cas didn't mean to leave the door open, what if he has no idea Dean's standing there, watching him like a fucking creep and touching himself? But then he catches a quick movement of Cas's eyes, opening briefly and, he's pretty sure, flickering over at Dean for a millisecond before he closes them again and moans, throwing his head back.

Dean doesn't think he's ever become this aroused this fast, his dick rock hard and heavy in his grasp already, his hand starting to jerk it hard and quick of its own accord. There's no need to work up to it; he's already insanely aroused, desperate to come, and he probably will in not too long.

Cas's breaths are coming faster and louder each second, and so are Dean's. He knows Cas must hear him, must know what this is doing to him, just like Dean knows what it's doing to Cas that he's watching. That thought forces a whimper out of his mouth, and Cas's response is a helpless moan and a hard buck of his hips as he moves a hand up to pinch his own nipple. He twists it, drawing a gasp from his throat as his hand speeds up on his dick.

Dean's hand is flying over his dick now and he's unable to stop, chasing his orgasm furiously and so, _so close_. He can tell Cas is close, too, from the way his muscles tense up and tremble as he fucks his fist with abandon, and it's Cas's next high-pitched, desperate moan that finally sends Dean over the edge, breath exploding out of him as he paints the doorjamb with cum.

Cas follows right behind him, announcing his orgasm with a shout before Dean has finished coming. Even sitting upright, he still manages to shoot all the way up to his face, a rope of cum catching him underneath his jaw before the next one hits his cheek. Dean watches, mesmerised by the sight, until Cas is squeezing out the last few drops onto his stomach, and then Dean starts worrying that Cas might open his eyes any second now. He quickly wipes the doorjamb with his T-shirt – he'll clean it off properly later, but not now while Cas is here – and leaves in the direction he came from, leaving the bathroom free for Cas to clean himself up.

When they meet in the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, and when they meet each other around the Bunker after that, Cas somehow manages again to act like nothing at all has happened, not mentioning it with a word or acting any differently around Dean. It's good – it helps Dean manage to act normal around him. It also, however, almost makes him question whether it actually happened; he has been having some strange dreams lately, after all. But no, he knows it happened – no dream he's ever had has felt like _that_ – and he gets it confirmed when it happens once more, and then once again before Sam returns.

The third time, Dean accidentally bumps against the door in his attempt to get closer, which pushes it open by a few more inches. He panics and is about to put a hand on the door handle to pull it back to its original position when Cas's eyes open and meet his, all the while he keeps moaning and touching himself, and Dean freezes. There's no longer any pretense between them that Cas doesn't know he's there, then, and when he comes this time, Cas's gaze is on him throughout, flicking back and forth between his face and his cock. He leaves the mess on the floor for Cas to clean up, not daring to enter the room and destroy the fine balance they've created.

When Sam returns to the Bunker, Dean starts wondering if Cas is still going to be jerking off with his door open – if he's okay with Sam hearing and seeing him, too. He hopes not. Not that Sam would do anything like what Dean's been doing, he's pretty sure, but it still bothers him, the thought that this thing might not be specific to him – that Cas might get off no matter who sees or hears him. Because after all, isn't that kind of what exhibitionism is all about?

Eventually, however, it seems that he's been worrying for no reason; he never sees Cas's door ajar anymore, and Sam never acts like he's witnessed anything like what Dean's been watching Cas do. Of course, now that he's not worried about that anymore, he's no longer distracted from the fact that… well. He kinda misses it. It's weird – it has only happened three times, and it hasn't even been that long since the last time, but he does. He wonders how long he'll have to wait until the next time it happens – probably until the next time Sam goes away with Eileen, which could be months from now. He just hopes there _will_ be a next time, eventually – that Cas wasn't just experimenting with exhibitionism and has had his fill now.

It's been about three weeks since Sam returned when Cas shows up in the kitchen just as Dean is about to grab a beer out of the fridge. He looks more awkward now than he ever did between any of their… encounters, if they can be called that, which makes Dean really fucking curious about what he has to say.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering…" Cas looks down, blushing. "I was wondering if you might like to come and watch Netflix with me, on my computer. In my room."

"Oh." Dean feels a blush of his own coming on. Is Cas asking him to Netflix and Chill? "I… yeah. Like, now?"

Cas shrugs and looks in the direction of Sam's room, where Sam has retired for an early night, or more likely a Skype session with Eileen. "It seemed like a good time for it." Dean feels a small thrill at the confirmation that it's only Dean who's allowed to be a part of this, whatever it is; that Cas doesn't expose himself for Sam.

He follows Cas to his room, both of them silent, and it has Dean feeling like he did when he was about to lose his virginity at 17 – exhilarated and nervous. This is the first time they've planned it together like this – the first time they've talked about this thing they're doing. Not that they actually mentioned it in so many words, but they both know why they're headed for Cas's room right now.

Cas closes the door behind them, and Dean doesn't think he's ever been in here alone with Cas, behind a closed door.

They each prop a pillow against the headboard as they sit down so close together that they're touching, the laptop sitting on both their laps, and Dean has to place his hand on top of his own thigh to keep it from resting against Cas's.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Cas asks as he opens Netflix, and usually Dean would suggest up to several movies that Cas needs to watch, but not this time.

"Whatever you want," Dean shrugs, and apparently Cas isn't picky either, as he picks a movie seemingly at random. Dean doesn't even catch the title, his thoughts occupied entirely with other things.

The movie starts, but even though Dean's looking at the screen, he's not paying any attention to the action on it whatsoever; all he can focus on is the reason Cas asked him here and how close Cas is, nothing separating them but a few layers of clothes. This is different than when he was just watching Cas from right outside the door. That was visual; it was Cas giving him a show. This is… intimate. He can feel the warmth of Cas seep through their clothes, can hear his breathing. He can even smell Cas, now that all his senses are focussed on the man – a hint of the shampoo again, from this morning, and another scent underneath that's familiar, but that Dean has never managed to place as the scent of Cas until now. It's a nice smell, comforting and heady at the same time.

He keeps glancing over at Cas every now and then – at the way his hands are resting on his inner thighs, almost touching the place where the zippered denim bulges out, but not quite. Just imagining it – anticipating it – has an effect on Dean already, his body reacting to the mental image.

Maybe it's the way his breath speeds up that gives him away, because Cas looks over at Dean's crotch and gasps softly. Then finally – _finally_ – Dean can see from the corner of his eye that Cas's hand is moving. The movements are small still, gently squeezing through the denim, but they draw a quiet sound from Cas, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and Dean can feel arousal curling in his gut.

He holds off on touching himself, though, instead just listening to the hitches in Cas's breath and glancing at where Cas is massaging himself softly, the outline of Cas's dick visible through his jeans as he squeezes along his length. Dean looks back at the computer screen, but no amount of bikini-clad women can distract him from what's happening beside him. Maybe that's significant or something; Dean doesn't manage to consider it long enough to make up his mind.

Dean listens to the sound of Cas popping the button on his jeans open, sees the movement in the periphery of his vision as Cas pulls the zipper down slowly. He can't help but look when Cas finally dips his hand into his underwear and pulls out his cock, nor can he help the whoosh of breath that escapes him.

Cas keens, then, as he wraps his hand around himself and begins moving it slowly up and down, and then he tips his back against the headboard before letting it roll to the side – onto Dean's shoulder.

Dean freezes for a moment while his dick does the opposite and jumps, leaking into the fabric of his underwear. When the shock of the sudden intimate contact recedes, Dean dares to lean his own head on top of Cas's, turning just slightly so his nose is buried in Cas's hair.

Cas reacts by pushing himself even closer, twisting his upper body so they're almost chest-to-chest, and stifles a sob against Dean's neck as his hand speeds up to a breakneck speed. Dean considers touching himself, but Cas seems to be close already, and he's not gonna catch up anyway. Besides, there are better things he can do with his hand.

Dean hesitates before he does it; what if Cas doesn't want to cross this boundary? But he's been fine with all the other things they've done, has been the one who initiated them, so Dean figures Cas isn't going to be outraged, at least. He places his hand above Cas's hip and lets it travel slowly toward the juncture of Cas's legs – slowly enough for Cas to catch onto what he's doing and stop him if he doesn't want Dean to keep going.

Cas's lips are wet as he mouths a hungry moan into the skin of Dean's neck below his ear, and he does nothing to stop Dean's wandering hand. Instead, he lets go of his own cock, as clear an invitation as any, and that's all the encouragement Dean needs; he wraps his fingers around Cas, marvelling at the weight of another man's cock in his hand. Of _Cas's_ cock. Cas is close to the edge already and desperate, fucking into Dean's hand impatiently, and it spurs Dean on. He tightens his fist and speeds up his movements, angling his face down to watch so he doesn't miss the sight of Cas erupting. He knows it puts him in the line of fire, considering the previous cumshots he's seen from Cas, and with a sudden rush of arousal he realises he wants it. Maybe Cas wants it too, or maybe he was just that close already, because it's only about a second later that his body tenses and he comes with a shout.

Dean closes his eyes as his face gets streaked – on his forehead, his cheekbone, across his not-quite-closed mouth – and maybe getting blasted with Cas's cum and getting a taste of it shouldn't be so arousing to him, but it has him painfully hard in seconds.

Both their shirts get soiled, too, before Cas untenses, his body going slack and mellow. Dean releases his grip on him with a final, soft squeeze and licks his lips, tasting Cas again. Cas sees him doing it and groans, and Dean's so fucking turned on there's nothing he can do but get his damn pants open as fast as he can and pull out his dick, jerking it with fast strokes.

The way Cas is watching has him hurtling toward the edge, and he's almost reached the point of no return when Cas bends down and places his mouth on him, sudden heat and wetness surrounding Dean's cock. It's done; there's nothing Dean can do to stop it, and he shoots, emptying himself into Cas's mouth while his hand buries itself in Cas's hair.

When Dean's spent, Cas raises his head and looks at Dean while he swallows it all, Adam's apple bobbing, and if Dean hadn't come moments ago, his dick would probably have perked up at the sight. He relaxes and lets himself slide down the headboard until he's almost lying down, stupid with afterglow, and he can't think of a single thing to say as he cards his fingers through Cas's hair.

It seems to take Cas a few moments to come to his senses, too, but finally he huffs a quiet laugh as he looks at Dean. "You're filthy. I'll get you something to clean up with." Dean agrees with a grunt and closes his eyes, feeling boneless.

Dean's confused for a moment when the mattress dips beside him and he opens his eyes to see Cas looking down at him. Oh. He fell asleep, in Cas's bed. It's a comfortable place to be, and it feels intimate in a different way from what they were doing earlier, and Dean has no idea if he has any right to feel this way – if there's anything more to this than just getting off with a friend, for Cas.

Cas smiles and lies down on his side next to Dean, bringing a warm washcloth to his face. It feels good, having Cas gently clean his face like this, but Dean wonders if he should stop him and do it himself. He doesn't.

It goes on for longer than Dean thinks is necessary to get it all off, and afterwards, Cas cups Dean's face in his hand. Their eyes meet, Cas's face so close now, and Dean forgets how to breathe.

"Dean. Will you stay with me for the night?"

Dean's words have deserted him, but he nods, and when Cas's face breaks into a brilliant smile, he knows he's not alone in his feelings.

In the morning, Dean opens his eyes to a room that's not his own, and once again he's disoriented – but only until he feels the warm body behind him. Cas. He smiles and turns around, facing a sleepy-looking Cas who immediately clings to him and pushes his face into Dean's shoulder, just breathing there for a while until he wakes up fully. It's nice.

"May I kiss you?" The four words are the only indication that Cas isn't half-asleep still, and Dean almost thinks he imagined hearing it, but he can still feel the lingering heat from Cas's breath against his shoulder where the words were spoken.

"Yeah. Yes." Dean's heart is pounding, and he wonders if Cas's is, too. Then Cas raises his head and slowly closes the distance between them. Their lips brush, once, warm breaths mingling between them, before finally slotting together in a soft kiss. Someone sighs contentedly, and Dean thinks it was Cas, but he doesn't know for sure.

Wanting to get even closer to the other man, Dean wraps an arm around him and pulls until he's got Cas on top of him, the weight comforting because it means he's _there_ , with Dean, as close as he can be. It doesn't hurt that there's something hard poking Dean's hip, or that Cas shivers when Dean grabs Cas's ass, pulling him close and grinding against him.

It doesn't take much to get Dean worked up, and he doesn't last long, but then neither does Cas. This time they both end up filthy, chests and stomachs covered in intermingled fluids, including Cas's lube. They clean up as best they can with the half-dried washcloth from last night before they wrap their arms against each other again and just hold each other close.

They stay that way for an indeterminable amount of time before they hear footsteps and a rap on the door, and Cas's gaze immediately flies to Dean's, gauging his reaction.

Sam knocks once more. "Cas, you in there? Have you seen Dean anywhere?"

"Go away," Dean shouts, and then there's silence, but Dean can practically hear Sam thinking, even through the door. Meanwhile, Cas's eyes are wide in disbelief as if he's not sure he trusts his own ears, his eyebrows raised almost comically high.

Sam's voice comes through the door again. "I… Dean? What are you…?"

Dean can imagine the confused as fuck expression on Sam's face, and it makes him grin. "We're not decent, Sammy. And me and Cas are gonna grab a shower soon, so unless you wanna see something you'd rather not, you should probably go somewhere else."

There's a beat, and then the sound of quickly retreating footsteps. Then the sound of even faster returning footsteps before Sam yells "Uh, congratulations, I guess!" at the door and takes off at a fast jog.

Dean guffaws at that. Cas smiles, and Dean knows he's more amused than he lets on.

"Really, Dean? That is the way you chose to tell your brother?"

"Best way to keep him from trying to have a heartfelt talk about how he accepts me for who I am and shit." Dean shrugs easily. "I know he does." He gets up from the bed and holds a hand out for Cas. "Now, how about that shower?"

Cas doesn't hesitate, letting Dean lead him out of the room with a big smile on his face and nude as the day Jimmy was born.


End file.
